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Aug. 22nd, 2003 08:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
essayelOooh, it's nice to be home! I'd just like to thank the people who seemed to be pleased to see me back on LJ - I was ever so pleased to see you lot!
It's the cats, of course, who are the most ecstatic. Because we arrived in the wee small hours they were both tucked up asleep in their second homes and it wasn't until the next morning that Chivers realised we were back and Marmalade didn't put in an appearance until tea time. Both remained in close physical contact for a good 48 hours and demanded feeding a dozen times a day - just as though they really had been abandoned for two weeks. Cats are such drama queens.
Any way here's another bit of 'What I did on my Holidays' assuming anyone is interested.
From home to where we were staying was approx 600 miles as the crow flies, nothing by American standards I know as I get the impression that that's how far you might drive to get a really cold beer, but that involved 3 countries, 3 different languages and a night on a boat. Thursday was easy - out of Wales into England, down to Portsmouth and onto the ferry. There we ate in the 'restaurant' and got all rowdy while Paul was off having a smoke. Then we went to our cabin, which had a window!!! Just above the waterline! I told them that if the water came over the window just once I was out of there but luckily it was dead calm. We got turfed off the boat at 6.00am Friday drove all day and fetched up at a friends house at St Pierre de Chemin in the Vendee just in time for them to discover that the drains were blocked and sewage was bubbling merrily across the patio. This was a little awkward as this house for two - an elderly gay couple - was sleeping 9 that night. The two gentlemen, fiddled around with rubber gloves and drain rods for a bit until rescued by the farmers wife who put down her dead rabbits, shoved her arm down the drain, unblocked it and picked up the rabbits again - one hopes she washed her hands before gutting them.
Quote of Friday:
Gentleman 1: We can hear it when she kills the bunnies. Poor things, they squeal so much.
Gentleman 2 : They squeal like that when they're mating too ...but then don't we all.
We slept in the granary, where the mice romp and the spiders wear wellingtons. Up at 6 again and another 300 odd miles.
I love French architecture. There's a difference in proportion - French houses tend to be taller in comparison to their width than ours. Then there are the little details - the shutters, the art nouveau wrought iron balcony rails and cellar covers, and that's just the little town houses. Out in the country you get everything from tiny tumbledown cottages to enormous rambling 'chateau' type places. It was very noticeable that most of the houses that seemed to be in really glossy apple pie order had obvious 'tourist' vehicles parked outside. 'Holiday homes' and gites are big business now that agriculture is waning.
We got to our own hired gaff at about 3 and what a place. Golden stone under pantiles with a cute little pigeonniere like a little tower - and in glossy apple pie order. I feel a little ambivalent about this sort of thing. The tourist bring revenue into districts that might otherwise be rather hard-up but all the nicest buildings go to house them - I am, of course, speaking from the point of view of someone who was brought up in one of the most beautiful villages in the West of England, a village where I could now never afford a house.
The heat was incredible, but the house has walls about 3 feet thick so it was cool inside. The pool is to the North west of the house, tucked down behind the barn so it is shielded from the sun all morning. Just as well because a Brit who was resident there said that his thermometer only went up to 120 degrees and it had been regularly exceeding that. The stone of the house sucked the heat up all day and radiated it at night so the little lizards, who would normally be curling up for the night at dusk, were still be scampering about murdering mosquitos (yay for the lizards) well after dark. It was cool in the pool and it was cool if you got in the car and put the air con on. Clothes were pretty much superfluous except, of course, that we had two impressionable kids with us plus a very adventurous pensioner, who might well have been tempted to join in. Michael, creature of the night, did not cope well and wilted like a - well 'lily' is hardly appropriate - perhaps one of the umbelliferae would be a better choice - like hemlock or hogweed. Paul spent most of the day outside, in whatever shade he could find, reading. Jenny splashed in the pool for hours and went brown and sleek as a seal. I, museum exhibit used to existing in a controlled temp of 58 degrees, could barely move. The only time to function properly is about 5am - I could write then. Otherwise, the minute the kids saw me sit down at the computer they 'try to be quiet' in such a way that I was reduced to a nervous wreck. What they did was this:
Kid: Oh, Mum, can I...
Me: Hmm, what?
Kid: No forget it. You're writing.
Me: No, tell me. I am listening.
Kid: No, no problem. You go back to whatever it is. *sigh*
Me: OK...if you're sure.
Short pause while I gather scattered thoughts, remember where I was and resume typing.
Kid: But, can I...? (Train of thought derails and crashes down embankment into pond)
After a day or two of this, the minute either of them uttered my name I sprang to my feet going " Yes, immediately, whatever, let's do it right now!!" and they got upset suspecting sarcasm.
The other thing they did was try to amuse each other. This involved much giggling, a crescendo of whispering and finally one or the other whinging " Mum! He's/she's being mean to me!" 'Mean', normally quite a short and inoffensive word, under these circumstances takes on the irritation value of the whine of an unlocated mosquito. It varies in length and intensity but seem to have dropped that dampening 'a'and gained many extra 'e's. Jenny does it best. Her 'meeeeeeeeeeen' has at least fifteen 'e's and could etch glass.
Despite kids, heat, mosquitos and far too much wine, I did do some writing and so here another bit of Roseblade's Challenge - now completed and ready for posting. The big problem is that it hasn't been betaed so any advice or feedback would be most welcome. Oh and …errrr…well, I suppose I should say fluff alert at this point.
Sirius stood up incautiously and paid the price by cracking his head against a rafter. Not a promising start to what he knew to be his last day on earth but that was no reason to be miserable! If he was to die today, around tea-time by choking on a turkey bone, there was no reason why he shouldn't live life to the full until that point! Shuddering at the bite of the cold air he hastily snatched up his robe and shrugged it on then dragged a package out from under his bed. The door to Remus room was only a step or two away.
"Merry Christmas, Moony!" he said as he plumped down on the edge of the bed and pulled the covers back from Remus shoulders. "Come on, wake up."
"I am awake," Remus said mildly and shifted over to make some space. "What? Presents already?" he said but looked pleased, nevertheless. He accepted the heavy package that Sirius laid across his lap and Sirius smiled and leaned back against the headboard beside him.
"Go on, open it," he ordered.
Remus eyed Sirius a little nervously. He had taken his own batch of potion a few moments previously and was slightly appalled at just how real everything seemed to be. There was a distinct chill in the air, the sky, through the dormer window was overcast and heavy with the threat of bad weather and, although the package was insubstantial, it looked heavy and showed every sign of Sirius' characteristic over-kill style of gift wrapping. "I have something for you as well," he said and passed Sirius the small package that he had been instructed to prepare. It doesn't matter what's in it, Dumbledore had told them all when he briefed them, because Sirius will see what he expects to see.
Remus made unwrapping motions with his hands and his package opened with eerie ease - Sirius-wrapped gifts tended to need more force; either a carefully applied severing spell or the carving knife. Sirius was also busy untying the string around Remus' package and Remus had half an eye on him wondering what on earth Sirius would have expected as a gift from him…he feared that it would be something prosaic like socks. Then the last fold of ghostly paper gave beneath his fingers and he glanced down automatically.
"Good…grief," he breathed and ran reverend fingers over the calf bindings of the book exposed. The Gestae Manibus of Iolo Ddu, written in Latin but with Welsh annotations in the author's own hand. He had first heard of the book twenty years before and had spent five years and all his savings in tracking down an incomplete transcription, only to find the all important section on herbal treatments to ameliorate the worst effects of werewolf transformations missing.
"Oh, Sirius," he said turning to face his friend. The shoulder against his own shrugged a little but Sirius face was shining with glee as he drew something small from the box he was holding. "Hell, Moony," he whooped. "Where did you find this? I thought they'd stopped making them years ago." Remus couldn't see what it was he was holding but was in any case too overcome to try.
"Sirius," he said, lifting the book, "I don't know what to say…"
"Say nothing then," Sirius suggested, gravely. His face had sobered and he was turning the little object over and over in his hands. Now Remus recognised it as a coin - a base metal token given away with Whizzcrisp breakfast cereal years ago to commemorate the various Quidditch Cup Finals. He vaguely remembered giving one to Sirius early in their first year, one that had completed the set - probably the first gift he had ever given him. Perhaps it had meant more to him than Remus had guessed.
Sirius smiled wryly, almost mesmerised by the bright little disc of metal. "I'm glad you like it, Ree," he murmured, the use of Remus' schoolboy nickname odd upon adult lips. "You know…I don't think I've ever told you how much your friendship has meant to me and I just want you to know…well…Remus, I…" He stopped speaking and there was the kind of agonised pause that always develops when an Englishman tries to express any emotion. Sirius flushed and took a deep breath but Remus, agonisingly aware as Sirius was not of the half dozen people downstairs surely avidly listening to their conversation, interrupted him.
"Yes," he said, smiling a little wistfully, "me, too. Thank you, Padfoot. This is … a princely gift. I can't wait to read it."
"Hey, you're not spending the day reading," Sirius protested.
"Certainly not," Remus agreed. "Don't you remember - we have guests coming to join us and they will be here very soon!"
Sirius looked confused for a moment then grinned. "Harry?" he asked hopefully. "Brilliant! And who else? No, let me guess. Ron because Harry doesn't go anywhere without Ron if he can help it and Hermione to add a little class. Hell, Moony," he said, his voice carrying lamentably clearly, "she's growing up fast, that little lady…"
"Sirius," Remus hissed but Sirius grinned unrepentantly.
"Don't worry," he said. "I know she's off limits but a man can dream can't he?"
**
Downstairs Hermione gave Ginny a triumphant smile but Ginny merely smirked as the laughing voice upstairs began to extol the virtues of red-headed women while Remus vainly attempted to shush him.
"Hey," Ron whispered angrily to Harry. "Is your godfather some kind of pervert?"
Severus' "yes" clashed with Bill's slightly worried "no" and Ginny flushed.
"Oh, I see," she snarled, "just because a man has eyes in his head and uses them!"
"Quiet," Hermione ordered. "I think they are coming downstairs."
There was a flurry of giggling movement as they all pelted out of the front door into the garden, Severus clumping along grumpily behind them in his highly polished black boots. Once safely outside the children clustered around the windows, peering through the fronds of frost to see what Sirius reaction would be to their attempts at decoration, while Severus chuntered to the Headmaster.
"I feel ridiculous," he was hissing. "This beard itches, the boots pinch."
"Now Severus," Dumbledore replied, "it's traditional. Besides, that colour is really you!"
"What! Headmaster…" Snape's griping continued but was drowned out by the enthusiastic yodel from the house as Sirius hurtled into view, swinging himself around the newel post and landing with a plop on the hearthrug. Robes were not the ideal garments for such activity, riding up considerably and causing Hermione and Ginny to knock heads as they both craned forward.
Sirius shook himself to get his robe straight and looked around a little wistfully.
"The place looks great Moony. Did you do all this last night after I went to bed?"
"No, Sirius," Remus was coming down the stairs very slowly and appeared to be trying to read a very large and invisible book. "You helped me, don't you remember? That bang on the head last week has really scrambled your brains."
"But I can't have done!" Sirius protested. He frowned and shook his wand out of his sleeve and directed it at the bunches of herbs hanging from the ceiling, transfiguring them into an enormous bunch of greenery. "I'd never have forgotten the mistletoe!"
Outside, Hermione and Ginny punched the air.
Remus laughed, still clutching his book. "All right," he said, "but you transfigure them back afterwards."
"Oh, Moony, don't be such a wet blanket. Come on…give us a kiss!"
"Whoa!" Remus darted around the other side of the table and Sirius gave chase.
"Phew, that's a relief," murmured Ron to Harry. "Now I can stop worrying about Ginny."
Harry scowled at him and returned his gaze to where Remus was struggling, scarlet faced, in Sirius arms. Sirius, laughing, stooped and made a loud "Mmmmwaaah!" noise against Remus cheek.
"Eeewww, yuk, jack it in, Padfoot," Remus protested, scrubbing at his cheek with his sleeve, but he was laughing too. "Harry and the others will be here soon. Do you want to traumatise your godson? Do you want him to think he has a fairy godfather?"
"He can think what he likes," Sirius grinned. He sighed and hugged Remus then let him go. "Hadn't we better get the dinner on?"
Remus darted an embarrassed glance towards the front windows and nodded. "Yes because they'll be here very soon," he said loudly and hopefully.
Harry glanced over his shoulder to where Snape and Dumbledore were still arguing with Bill looking on.
"Headmaster," he hissed. "I think Remus wants us."
Dumbledore flapped a hand irritably in Harry's direction.
"But it's traditional," he said to Snape, his tone making it clear that it wasn't the first time he'd said those particular words. Snape folded his arms and glowered.
"I don't care," he replied. "The padding has got to go, likewise this - this face fungus!"
Dumbledore stroked his own luxuriant facial growth and frowned. "Very well," he said. "Am I right in assuming that you will be prepared to accept a compromise? Black is completely out of the question but I can tone down the red and maybe shorten the beard…come on, work with me on this Severus."
Snape eyed him with some misgiving then slowly nodded.
Harry's attention was drawn back to the house by Remus' scandalised howl of, "You want to give Hermione what for Christmas?" only to be distracted by Snape's murmur of appreciation.
"Oh yes, Headmaster. This is much better." Now clad in a form fitting crimson frock coat similar to, though much shorter than, his normal attire, with thigh boots and with his hair drawn back in a queue Snape looked much happier.
Hermione caught Harry's eye. "Prince Charming?" she mouthed incredulously.
"Possibly," he whispered back. "But I've never seen a principal boy with an ice white goatee before."
Dumbledore beamed at them.
"Well, look at you all," he said, scanning their lightweight summer robes and Hermione's sawn off denims. "This'll never do. You're supposed to have just been for a walk in a winter wonderland not been sunning yourself on the beach at Bognor." He made a pass with his wand, gave a happy smile at the result, then stepped past them and raised his wand like a baton.
"Ah one, ah two, ah one two three…"
*
"Right, stop that, they're here," Remus called, reluctantly setting the ghost of his book aside. Sirius paused, his wand poised over the punch-mixing cauldron, his other hand holding a bottle of 'Cap'n Sparrow's Joculator - the Best Rum ever to Incapacitate a Pirate' draining the last few drops into the mixture within. The mixture 'glooped' and a small puff of purple smoke rose but Sirius attention was on the cacophony at the door.
"What's that?" he said. "Sort of sounds like cats only not as melodic."
"Carol singers?" Remus suggested. "Demanding money with menaces - 'Give us your money or we'll sing all the verses to God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen'."
Sirius set wand and empty bottle aside and went to the door, throwing it open. He winced as the brilliant summer sunshine blinded him but the potion was strong so he didn't see the blue sky and glowing hillsides.
"Come in," he called. "You must be frozen! Harry!" he slung an arm around his godson's shoulders. "Look at you with your face all aglow! And I love the matching Eskimo outfits - whose idea were they?"
Bill, his face almost as red as his hair, was struggling out of his parka, then he stepped out of the doorway and Sirius was face to face with Snape, who, while fairly pleased with his appearance was having to continually suppress a mad urge to slap his thigh.
Sirius drew breath to speak…then stopped…what he was seeing defied belief and his mental defence mechanisms clanged shut on a situation that he was not able to cope with in his delicate condition.
"Er…hi, Merry Christmas," he said and turned back to the kids.
*
Actually, after that, it all went quite well.
In response to Snape's furiously hissed demands, Remus agreed that they have dinner before exchanging presents. But if Snape had hoped that the incident with the turkey bone should happen straight away and save them all some bother he was disappointed.
Molly had sent them a goose.
Afterwards, replete and sleepy, they exchanged their virtual gifts and very informative they were. Dumbledore and Sirius exchanged socks - Sirius's gift to Dumbledore consisted of four pairs, one in each of the house colours and suitably tasselled and fringed, though the red and gold pair was perhaps a little more lavish. His from Dumbledore were a sensible black with built-in hex and curse repelling spells so he would be safe at least from the calf down. They came with a two year guarantee and a pair of matching, fully armoured underpants.
Ron received a bottle of fame and Bill a book (that he opened, grinned, and closed again hurriedly. "Thanks, man, I'll - er - look at the pictures later.").
Hermione opened her package and gasped at the skimpy confections of raspberry pink lace and elastic within. Ginny looked quite put out until she opened hers and found something very similar only in apple green… a shade that almost exactly matched Ron's face
It was Harry's gift though, that reminded Remus of the purpose of the day. The boy unwrapped the ghostly parcel and withdrew a large sphere.
"Hey, a - um - beach ball. Nice one, Sirius. I like the pattern."
Sirius looked a little disappointed for an instant but then he caught Remus eye and shrugged and grinned. Harry was only a child after all, despite the amazing things he had done, and couldn't really be expected to see the significance. But Remus looked at the swirling blue and white patterns on the 'ball', noting the anti-cyclone forming off the coast of Denmark that could mean rain later in the day, and knew that Sirius wanted to give Harry the world and deeply regretted that he might not be there to do so.
Snape, lurking on the sidelines, opened his gift with a scowl then went very quiet. He had assumed that he had not been recognised but such was obviously not the case. Not that it made any difference of course, but the fact that his parcel had contained 'an unreserved apology for just about everything up to and including that business with the pants' did make him regret, just for one moment, that he had soaked the string of the parcel he had prepared for Sirius in a delicate essence of hoar-hound. It had been a nifty piece of potion work designed to work gradually and a slight alteration to the spelling of the main constituent should make bedtimes interesting in the Lupin household for the next week or two. Thus he would wreak a subtle revenge for Lupin interrupting his report and for Sirius' continued existence. Disinclined to see his invention go to waste, he therefore held his peace. A moment later he was wincing as Sirius, too impatient to look for a knife, bit through the string and grimaced at the bitter flavour of the preparation. The potion had been designed to be absorbed through the thicker skin of the hands; absorption through the mouth would be much stronger and the effects consequently more violent. He almost spoke then but at that moment the parcel exploded and by the time the smoke had cleared he had decided he quite liked the idea.
"Unreserved apology, my arse," he murmured.
More later in the week.
Now for some really good news! We got Mike's results today and he had passed all nine of his GCSEs, scoring an A, four Bs, three Cs, a D and he even managed to scrape a pass with a G for Welsh. Of course, with a little more revision he would have had a couple more As and B and fewer Cs but never mind - he will be able to stay on at school in September instead of having to leave and become a trolley catcher for Tescos! So, well done Mike!! He had said he didn't want to know but I thought I'd take the load off his mind and sent him a text message reading "Well, do you want to know or not cleverclogs xxx Mum" which was reassuring enough for him to tring straight back to get the gen! He'll be home next Wednesday and I imagine he and his mates will be partying.
It's the cats, of course, who are the most ecstatic. Because we arrived in the wee small hours they were both tucked up asleep in their second homes and it wasn't until the next morning that Chivers realised we were back and Marmalade didn't put in an appearance until tea time. Both remained in close physical contact for a good 48 hours and demanded feeding a dozen times a day - just as though they really had been abandoned for two weeks. Cats are such drama queens.
Any way here's another bit of 'What I did on my Holidays' assuming anyone is interested.
From home to where we were staying was approx 600 miles as the crow flies, nothing by American standards I know as I get the impression that that's how far you might drive to get a really cold beer, but that involved 3 countries, 3 different languages and a night on a boat. Thursday was easy - out of Wales into England, down to Portsmouth and onto the ferry. There we ate in the 'restaurant' and got all rowdy while Paul was off having a smoke. Then we went to our cabin, which had a window!!! Just above the waterline! I told them that if the water came over the window just once I was out of there but luckily it was dead calm. We got turfed off the boat at 6.00am Friday drove all day and fetched up at a friends house at St Pierre de Chemin in the Vendee just in time for them to discover that the drains were blocked and sewage was bubbling merrily across the patio. This was a little awkward as this house for two - an elderly gay couple - was sleeping 9 that night. The two gentlemen, fiddled around with rubber gloves and drain rods for a bit until rescued by the farmers wife who put down her dead rabbits, shoved her arm down the drain, unblocked it and picked up the rabbits again - one hopes she washed her hands before gutting them.
Quote of Friday:
Gentleman 1: We can hear it when she kills the bunnies. Poor things, they squeal so much.
Gentleman 2 : They squeal like that when they're mating too ...but then don't we all.
We slept in the granary, where the mice romp and the spiders wear wellingtons. Up at 6 again and another 300 odd miles.
I love French architecture. There's a difference in proportion - French houses tend to be taller in comparison to their width than ours. Then there are the little details - the shutters, the art nouveau wrought iron balcony rails and cellar covers, and that's just the little town houses. Out in the country you get everything from tiny tumbledown cottages to enormous rambling 'chateau' type places. It was very noticeable that most of the houses that seemed to be in really glossy apple pie order had obvious 'tourist' vehicles parked outside. 'Holiday homes' and gites are big business now that agriculture is waning.
We got to our own hired gaff at about 3 and what a place. Golden stone under pantiles with a cute little pigeonniere like a little tower - and in glossy apple pie order. I feel a little ambivalent about this sort of thing. The tourist bring revenue into districts that might otherwise be rather hard-up but all the nicest buildings go to house them - I am, of course, speaking from the point of view of someone who was brought up in one of the most beautiful villages in the West of England, a village where I could now never afford a house.
The heat was incredible, but the house has walls about 3 feet thick so it was cool inside. The pool is to the North west of the house, tucked down behind the barn so it is shielded from the sun all morning. Just as well because a Brit who was resident there said that his thermometer only went up to 120 degrees and it had been regularly exceeding that. The stone of the house sucked the heat up all day and radiated it at night so the little lizards, who would normally be curling up for the night at dusk, were still be scampering about murdering mosquitos (yay for the lizards) well after dark. It was cool in the pool and it was cool if you got in the car and put the air con on. Clothes were pretty much superfluous except, of course, that we had two impressionable kids with us plus a very adventurous pensioner, who might well have been tempted to join in. Michael, creature of the night, did not cope well and wilted like a - well 'lily' is hardly appropriate - perhaps one of the umbelliferae would be a better choice - like hemlock or hogweed. Paul spent most of the day outside, in whatever shade he could find, reading. Jenny splashed in the pool for hours and went brown and sleek as a seal. I, museum exhibit used to existing in a controlled temp of 58 degrees, could barely move. The only time to function properly is about 5am - I could write then. Otherwise, the minute the kids saw me sit down at the computer they 'try to be quiet' in such a way that I was reduced to a nervous wreck. What they did was this:
Kid: Oh, Mum, can I...
Me: Hmm, what?
Kid: No forget it. You're writing.
Me: No, tell me. I am listening.
Kid: No, no problem. You go back to whatever it is. *sigh*
Me: OK...if you're sure.
Short pause while I gather scattered thoughts, remember where I was and resume typing.
Kid: But, can I...? (Train of thought derails and crashes down embankment into pond)
After a day or two of this, the minute either of them uttered my name I sprang to my feet going " Yes, immediately, whatever, let's do it right now!!" and they got upset suspecting sarcasm.
The other thing they did was try to amuse each other. This involved much giggling, a crescendo of whispering and finally one or the other whinging " Mum! He's/she's being mean to me!" 'Mean', normally quite a short and inoffensive word, under these circumstances takes on the irritation value of the whine of an unlocated mosquito. It varies in length and intensity but seem to have dropped that dampening 'a'and gained many extra 'e's. Jenny does it best. Her 'meeeeeeeeeeen' has at least fifteen 'e's and could etch glass.
Despite kids, heat, mosquitos and far too much wine, I did do some writing and so here another bit of Roseblade's Challenge - now completed and ready for posting. The big problem is that it hasn't been betaed so any advice or feedback would be most welcome. Oh and …errrr…well, I suppose I should say fluff alert at this point.
Sirius stood up incautiously and paid the price by cracking his head against a rafter. Not a promising start to what he knew to be his last day on earth but that was no reason to be miserable! If he was to die today, around tea-time by choking on a turkey bone, there was no reason why he shouldn't live life to the full until that point! Shuddering at the bite of the cold air he hastily snatched up his robe and shrugged it on then dragged a package out from under his bed. The door to Remus room was only a step or two away.
"Merry Christmas, Moony!" he said as he plumped down on the edge of the bed and pulled the covers back from Remus shoulders. "Come on, wake up."
"I am awake," Remus said mildly and shifted over to make some space. "What? Presents already?" he said but looked pleased, nevertheless. He accepted the heavy package that Sirius laid across his lap and Sirius smiled and leaned back against the headboard beside him.
"Go on, open it," he ordered.
Remus eyed Sirius a little nervously. He had taken his own batch of potion a few moments previously and was slightly appalled at just how real everything seemed to be. There was a distinct chill in the air, the sky, through the dormer window was overcast and heavy with the threat of bad weather and, although the package was insubstantial, it looked heavy and showed every sign of Sirius' characteristic over-kill style of gift wrapping. "I have something for you as well," he said and passed Sirius the small package that he had been instructed to prepare. It doesn't matter what's in it, Dumbledore had told them all when he briefed them, because Sirius will see what he expects to see.
Remus made unwrapping motions with his hands and his package opened with eerie ease - Sirius-wrapped gifts tended to need more force; either a carefully applied severing spell or the carving knife. Sirius was also busy untying the string around Remus' package and Remus had half an eye on him wondering what on earth Sirius would have expected as a gift from him…he feared that it would be something prosaic like socks. Then the last fold of ghostly paper gave beneath his fingers and he glanced down automatically.
"Good…grief," he breathed and ran reverend fingers over the calf bindings of the book exposed. The Gestae Manibus of Iolo Ddu, written in Latin but with Welsh annotations in the author's own hand. He had first heard of the book twenty years before and had spent five years and all his savings in tracking down an incomplete transcription, only to find the all important section on herbal treatments to ameliorate the worst effects of werewolf transformations missing.
"Oh, Sirius," he said turning to face his friend. The shoulder against his own shrugged a little but Sirius face was shining with glee as he drew something small from the box he was holding. "Hell, Moony," he whooped. "Where did you find this? I thought they'd stopped making them years ago." Remus couldn't see what it was he was holding but was in any case too overcome to try.
"Sirius," he said, lifting the book, "I don't know what to say…"
"Say nothing then," Sirius suggested, gravely. His face had sobered and he was turning the little object over and over in his hands. Now Remus recognised it as a coin - a base metal token given away with Whizzcrisp breakfast cereal years ago to commemorate the various Quidditch Cup Finals. He vaguely remembered giving one to Sirius early in their first year, one that had completed the set - probably the first gift he had ever given him. Perhaps it had meant more to him than Remus had guessed.
Sirius smiled wryly, almost mesmerised by the bright little disc of metal. "I'm glad you like it, Ree," he murmured, the use of Remus' schoolboy nickname odd upon adult lips. "You know…I don't think I've ever told you how much your friendship has meant to me and I just want you to know…well…Remus, I…" He stopped speaking and there was the kind of agonised pause that always develops when an Englishman tries to express any emotion. Sirius flushed and took a deep breath but Remus, agonisingly aware as Sirius was not of the half dozen people downstairs surely avidly listening to their conversation, interrupted him.
"Yes," he said, smiling a little wistfully, "me, too. Thank you, Padfoot. This is … a princely gift. I can't wait to read it."
"Hey, you're not spending the day reading," Sirius protested.
"Certainly not," Remus agreed. "Don't you remember - we have guests coming to join us and they will be here very soon!"
Sirius looked confused for a moment then grinned. "Harry?" he asked hopefully. "Brilliant! And who else? No, let me guess. Ron because Harry doesn't go anywhere without Ron if he can help it and Hermione to add a little class. Hell, Moony," he said, his voice carrying lamentably clearly, "she's growing up fast, that little lady…"
"Sirius," Remus hissed but Sirius grinned unrepentantly.
"Don't worry," he said. "I know she's off limits but a man can dream can't he?"
**
Downstairs Hermione gave Ginny a triumphant smile but Ginny merely smirked as the laughing voice upstairs began to extol the virtues of red-headed women while Remus vainly attempted to shush him.
"Hey," Ron whispered angrily to Harry. "Is your godfather some kind of pervert?"
Severus' "yes" clashed with Bill's slightly worried "no" and Ginny flushed.
"Oh, I see," she snarled, "just because a man has eyes in his head and uses them!"
"Quiet," Hermione ordered. "I think they are coming downstairs."
There was a flurry of giggling movement as they all pelted out of the front door into the garden, Severus clumping along grumpily behind them in his highly polished black boots. Once safely outside the children clustered around the windows, peering through the fronds of frost to see what Sirius reaction would be to their attempts at decoration, while Severus chuntered to the Headmaster.
"I feel ridiculous," he was hissing. "This beard itches, the boots pinch."
"Now Severus," Dumbledore replied, "it's traditional. Besides, that colour is really you!"
"What! Headmaster…" Snape's griping continued but was drowned out by the enthusiastic yodel from the house as Sirius hurtled into view, swinging himself around the newel post and landing with a plop on the hearthrug. Robes were not the ideal garments for such activity, riding up considerably and causing Hermione and Ginny to knock heads as they both craned forward.
Sirius shook himself to get his robe straight and looked around a little wistfully.
"The place looks great Moony. Did you do all this last night after I went to bed?"
"No, Sirius," Remus was coming down the stairs very slowly and appeared to be trying to read a very large and invisible book. "You helped me, don't you remember? That bang on the head last week has really scrambled your brains."
"But I can't have done!" Sirius protested. He frowned and shook his wand out of his sleeve and directed it at the bunches of herbs hanging from the ceiling, transfiguring them into an enormous bunch of greenery. "I'd never have forgotten the mistletoe!"
Outside, Hermione and Ginny punched the air.
Remus laughed, still clutching his book. "All right," he said, "but you transfigure them back afterwards."
"Oh, Moony, don't be such a wet blanket. Come on…give us a kiss!"
"Whoa!" Remus darted around the other side of the table and Sirius gave chase.
"Phew, that's a relief," murmured Ron to Harry. "Now I can stop worrying about Ginny."
Harry scowled at him and returned his gaze to where Remus was struggling, scarlet faced, in Sirius arms. Sirius, laughing, stooped and made a loud "Mmmmwaaah!" noise against Remus cheek.
"Eeewww, yuk, jack it in, Padfoot," Remus protested, scrubbing at his cheek with his sleeve, but he was laughing too. "Harry and the others will be here soon. Do you want to traumatise your godson? Do you want him to think he has a fairy godfather?"
"He can think what he likes," Sirius grinned. He sighed and hugged Remus then let him go. "Hadn't we better get the dinner on?"
Remus darted an embarrassed glance towards the front windows and nodded. "Yes because they'll be here very soon," he said loudly and hopefully.
Harry glanced over his shoulder to where Snape and Dumbledore were still arguing with Bill looking on.
"Headmaster," he hissed. "I think Remus wants us."
Dumbledore flapped a hand irritably in Harry's direction.
"But it's traditional," he said to Snape, his tone making it clear that it wasn't the first time he'd said those particular words. Snape folded his arms and glowered.
"I don't care," he replied. "The padding has got to go, likewise this - this face fungus!"
Dumbledore stroked his own luxuriant facial growth and frowned. "Very well," he said. "Am I right in assuming that you will be prepared to accept a compromise? Black is completely out of the question but I can tone down the red and maybe shorten the beard…come on, work with me on this Severus."
Snape eyed him with some misgiving then slowly nodded.
Harry's attention was drawn back to the house by Remus' scandalised howl of, "You want to give Hermione what for Christmas?" only to be distracted by Snape's murmur of appreciation.
"Oh yes, Headmaster. This is much better." Now clad in a form fitting crimson frock coat similar to, though much shorter than, his normal attire, with thigh boots and with his hair drawn back in a queue Snape looked much happier.
Hermione caught Harry's eye. "Prince Charming?" she mouthed incredulously.
"Possibly," he whispered back. "But I've never seen a principal boy with an ice white goatee before."
Dumbledore beamed at them.
"Well, look at you all," he said, scanning their lightweight summer robes and Hermione's sawn off denims. "This'll never do. You're supposed to have just been for a walk in a winter wonderland not been sunning yourself on the beach at Bognor." He made a pass with his wand, gave a happy smile at the result, then stepped past them and raised his wand like a baton.
"Ah one, ah two, ah one two three…"
*
"Right, stop that, they're here," Remus called, reluctantly setting the ghost of his book aside. Sirius paused, his wand poised over the punch-mixing cauldron, his other hand holding a bottle of 'Cap'n Sparrow's Joculator - the Best Rum ever to Incapacitate a Pirate' draining the last few drops into the mixture within. The mixture 'glooped' and a small puff of purple smoke rose but Sirius attention was on the cacophony at the door.
"What's that?" he said. "Sort of sounds like cats only not as melodic."
"Carol singers?" Remus suggested. "Demanding money with menaces - 'Give us your money or we'll sing all the verses to God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen'."
Sirius set wand and empty bottle aside and went to the door, throwing it open. He winced as the brilliant summer sunshine blinded him but the potion was strong so he didn't see the blue sky and glowing hillsides.
"Come in," he called. "You must be frozen! Harry!" he slung an arm around his godson's shoulders. "Look at you with your face all aglow! And I love the matching Eskimo outfits - whose idea were they?"
Bill, his face almost as red as his hair, was struggling out of his parka, then he stepped out of the doorway and Sirius was face to face with Snape, who, while fairly pleased with his appearance was having to continually suppress a mad urge to slap his thigh.
Sirius drew breath to speak…then stopped…what he was seeing defied belief and his mental defence mechanisms clanged shut on a situation that he was not able to cope with in his delicate condition.
"Er…hi, Merry Christmas," he said and turned back to the kids.
*
Actually, after that, it all went quite well.
In response to Snape's furiously hissed demands, Remus agreed that they have dinner before exchanging presents. But if Snape had hoped that the incident with the turkey bone should happen straight away and save them all some bother he was disappointed.
Molly had sent them a goose.
Afterwards, replete and sleepy, they exchanged their virtual gifts and very informative they were. Dumbledore and Sirius exchanged socks - Sirius's gift to Dumbledore consisted of four pairs, one in each of the house colours and suitably tasselled and fringed, though the red and gold pair was perhaps a little more lavish. His from Dumbledore were a sensible black with built-in hex and curse repelling spells so he would be safe at least from the calf down. They came with a two year guarantee and a pair of matching, fully armoured underpants.
Ron received a bottle of fame and Bill a book (that he opened, grinned, and closed again hurriedly. "Thanks, man, I'll - er - look at the pictures later.").
Hermione opened her package and gasped at the skimpy confections of raspberry pink lace and elastic within. Ginny looked quite put out until she opened hers and found something very similar only in apple green… a shade that almost exactly matched Ron's face
It was Harry's gift though, that reminded Remus of the purpose of the day. The boy unwrapped the ghostly parcel and withdrew a large sphere.
"Hey, a - um - beach ball. Nice one, Sirius. I like the pattern."
Sirius looked a little disappointed for an instant but then he caught Remus eye and shrugged and grinned. Harry was only a child after all, despite the amazing things he had done, and couldn't really be expected to see the significance. But Remus looked at the swirling blue and white patterns on the 'ball', noting the anti-cyclone forming off the coast of Denmark that could mean rain later in the day, and knew that Sirius wanted to give Harry the world and deeply regretted that he might not be there to do so.
Snape, lurking on the sidelines, opened his gift with a scowl then went very quiet. He had assumed that he had not been recognised but such was obviously not the case. Not that it made any difference of course, but the fact that his parcel had contained 'an unreserved apology for just about everything up to and including that business with the pants' did make him regret, just for one moment, that he had soaked the string of the parcel he had prepared for Sirius in a delicate essence of hoar-hound. It had been a nifty piece of potion work designed to work gradually and a slight alteration to the spelling of the main constituent should make bedtimes interesting in the Lupin household for the next week or two. Thus he would wreak a subtle revenge for Lupin interrupting his report and for Sirius' continued existence. Disinclined to see his invention go to waste, he therefore held his peace. A moment later he was wincing as Sirius, too impatient to look for a knife, bit through the string and grimaced at the bitter flavour of the preparation. The potion had been designed to be absorbed through the thicker skin of the hands; absorption through the mouth would be much stronger and the effects consequently more violent. He almost spoke then but at that moment the parcel exploded and by the time the smoke had cleared he had decided he quite liked the idea.
"Unreserved apology, my arse," he murmured.
More later in the week.
Now for some really good news! We got Mike's results today and he had passed all nine of his GCSEs, scoring an A, four Bs, three Cs, a D and he even managed to scrape a pass with a G for Welsh. Of course, with a little more revision he would have had a couple more As and B and fewer Cs but never mind - he will be able to stay on at school in September instead of having to leave and become a trolley catcher for Tescos! So, well done Mike!! He had said he didn't want to know but I thought I'd take the load off his mind and sent him a text message reading "Well, do you want to know or not cleverclogs xxx Mum" which was reassuring enough for him to tring straight back to get the gen! He'll be home next Wednesday and I imagine he and his mates will be partying.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-22 09:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-22 09:27 pm (UTC)Mike and his mates are going to the Bloodstock festival in Derby next week to see Nightwish! Wish I could go too but I'm scared of cramping their style.
Interesting...
Date: 2003-08-23 06:18 am (UTC)Do I want to know what that potion does?
Looking forward to more!
Your vacation sounds a lot like one we went on
about 15 years ago... Same temperatures too!
Joline
Re: Interesting...
Date: 2003-08-23 10:20 am (UTC)If you want to see how the story ends without waiting for further instalments on LJ I've posted the whole silly story in my folder of the Sirius File in the Boudoir.
Now I've got to make a start on my Dog Days story, again more silliness but I might manage some smut to go with it this time